Running To A StandStill
by ImagineGal
Summary: The story of the man who tried to escape from Babylon. Part Seven Coming Soon  Started before Season 2.
1. Part I

DISCLAIMER: While this story is based off of quite a tangential character, the main idea of and the basis for this fanfic rests with its owners (and may I say I'm very glad they came up with it!)

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It had been a dark night- not only had the stars and moon been snuffed out by clouds, but if one stood still enough, and felt, and listened, they would discover the darkness was tangible, audible. It was thick, heavy, full of the air and the Earth... an old darkness, one that had stood upon the Earth for centuries. It had a scent. It had a sense. It had a power. It smelled of spice and wind and coal, had the sense of shadows, the power of a god.

Somewhere in the darkness, Lucius Stangler was running.

He wasn't quite sure why he was running, but men in Stangler's situation hardly stopped to consider the cause of their actions. People who'd seen what he'd seen rarely stayed in one place for long.

He'd just seen five hundred men die in the short time span of ten seconds. Perhaps less.

All of them. Dead. There was no way they could have survived.

He'd had his doubts at first, of course. After it had happened, after the flames of their torches were snuffed out and the screams had ceased, he'd rushed to the pile of rubble and rocks, calling out names, waiting for an answer.

he'd called, shouting the names of the miners he'd known best, Willy? Jim?

Can anybody hear me?!

He'd reached out to touch the outpouring of rocks, but as soon as his fingertips brushed it he shrank back; a few stray pebbles clicked down to the soil in reaction to his touch. There was something odd and foreboding about the now closed-off tunnel of the mine, not simply the possibility that death might have occurred under it, but the REALITY of death. Death HAD come to pass under those rocks, there was no doubt about it. And Stangler had no knowledge of how it was, only that it was. And that was enough for him.

he'd suddenly whispered to himself. The miners had been looking for Henry Scudder, tracking him down, ready to hang him for the murder of Carlton Butridge. And Stangler had no way of knowing whether Scudder was among the dead, but... whether he was or he wasn't, somehow or another, this was all his fault.

he shouted this time, so loud that it echoed in the empty valley that was Babylon, Texas.

That's when he'd seen it. A leap of motion out of the corner of his eye.

And he ran.

Not away from the motion, but toward it, in pursuit of it. And even when he had run for some time and discovered he really was chasing nothing at all, he found himself to still be running, through the darkness, out of town, towards the hills.

At last he reached the hill, the outskirts of town, and began climbing, his feet pounding hard in the dust. But as he ascended he felt himself growing suddenly weary, as if someone were laying a heavy load onto his shoulders. He took this to be nothing more than a weariness caused by his own running.

And so he reached the top of the hill, though with each step his body became harder to lift; his knees felt more like buckling.

Lucius collapsed finally over the top of the hill, rolling about a third of the way down and finally laying still, his face to the sky. He tried to breathe but something stopped him. He tried to stand, but could not. And he saw hands, ghostly, disembodied hands, reaching down out of nowhere to grab him.

And he awoke in the bar.

He was sitting on a stool, his head cradled in folded arms. Light streamed in through the windows.

It was morning, and the bar was exactly as it had been left the previous night.

Men had been there of course- miners, preparing for their assault on Scudder, drinking, working up a storm. Stangler had found it all very interesting, but hadn't wanted to get too involved. He had only gone to watch the outcome, see what happened. After all, a man had been murdered.

That being said, there were bottles and glasses everywhere, some emptied and lying askew on the floor. The chairs were in disarray and fresh stains of liquor marked the wooden tables.

In front of Stangler, on the bar, lay his hat. To his left stood a half-empty bottle.

Lucius squinted at the bottle suspiciously. He didn't _feel_ like he'd been drinking last night, at least not to the point where he'd acquire a hangover. Besides, he didn't have one.

Still, what a strange dream. And why couldn't he remember what had happened to the miners?

He sighed, almost impatiently, sitting up and putting on his hat. He looked around. Things were quiet. Very quiet. By the time the sun was this bright, sounds of metal upon rock should have been emitting from the mines. But there was nothing.

Lucius felt the flicker of a quiet fear. He drummed his fingers on the bartop.

He went outside.

No one was around. The streets were empty and the wind howled through, and still the mines lay silent.

Not a soul to be seen.

Stangler squinted again, in confusion and in defiance of the wind. And, fearing suddenly that part of what he did remember might not be a dream at all, he headed for the mines.

The sight that met him there, in the harsh light of day, was almost too much to take. He didn't call out this time, he only sank to his knees, feeling suddenly sick. There was no blood, no sign of a corpse, but the death was still there, still sickeningly real. What if the rest of the dream was real, too?

Stangler didn't want to run. Didn't want to try to leave again.

But what choice did he have?

This time he took things with him in preparation for his journey; he knew the roads outside of Babylon were long and empty. He packed an amount of supplies small enough for him to carry, and set off, this time in a different direction.

And this time when he woke up, it was darker. The sun wavered on the edge of the horizon. It had happened again.

This time he remembered distinctly, it was no dream. He had grown tired as the road wore on, more tired than he should have gotten after such a short sojourn. And eventually he had collapsed, and though he did not see the hands this time he had sensed them reaching out for him. Then everything had gone dark and he had awakened again, in the bar, his head folded in his arms.

Was he going crazy?

Lucius put a hand to his forehead, his shoulders suddenly beginning to quiver with sobs. Every man in town dead, and him starting to go out of his mind... Or maybe they were still alive. Maybe it was only another illusion...

He needed consolation. Comfort. Something. Reaching to his left, he took up the half-full bottle of whisky and drank deep.

After a few healthy swigs he seemed to realize this was not the solution. His hazy eyes traveled around the room.

Setting the bottle down, he stood up off the stool and began to tidy up the bar.

And as he did so, the sun began to set.


	2. Part II

Darkness swept over the town again, so suddenly it seemed to have almost sucked up the light like a sponge. Stangler had rearranged the chairs and tables and disposed of the empty bottles and was just in the middle of wiping off a table when he thought he heard a noise.

He looked up; glanced around. Nothing seemed different. He shrugged and returned to his work.

The noise sounded again. And this time Lucius heard it distinctly and recognized it as well- it sounded like a low, moaning wind, an unnaturally slow wind.

A flash of light cut through the gap between the closed door and the wall.

Lucius started at that, looked up.

The wind moaned.

There was no more light.

Stangler set himself to his task again, frustrated. It was probably just another illusion.

Flash.

This time Lucius jumped back, knocked into a chair. He stared at the door for a long time.

The wind had stopped.

Lucius rung the rag in his hands a bit, listening to the dead silence. And after he'd stood there long enough he realized it was not as quiet as he thought.

A sound was emanating from outside- a familiar sound, but so strange under the circumstances, and so quiet, that it took Stangler several seconds to recognize it.

It was a sort of... crunching noise, like gravel shifting, like dust being ground into the Earth.

Like footsteps.

Not even bothering to let go of the rag, Lucius moved forward, towards the door. And the sound continued, not getting louder, not getting softer- constant. Rhythmic.

Slowly, Stangler opened the door; looked out onto the streets of Babylon.

Shadows were passing him by.

They came from the direction of the mine, or at least seemed to be, and they were marching, in no particular order it appeared, but with a rhythmic step, a slow and steady pace that was never broken.

Lucius stared, squinting a bit in the darkness.

And then one passed who held a lantern.

Stangler immediately stumbled back, slammed the door, collapsed with his back to the wall. He grasped at his head; pulled his knees up to his chest. Now he _knew_ he had to be crazy.

The gravel and dust still ground together outside.

Lucius shuddered again in fright, willing the noise outside to disappear.

But it didn't.

As the minutes passed, the sound became monotonous. Already after such a short time it had become a natural part of the environment. The heartbeat of Babylon was the sound of the maniacally slow, rhythmic steps.

Slowly, as the sound sunk more and more into monotony, Lucius unfolded his body, finally winding up with his legs stretched out in front of himself, his hands fiddling with the rag.

The sound went on. The lights still passed, every now and then. Flash. Flash. Flash.

Lucius took a slow, shaky breath and willed himself to his feet, fighting his fear and the slight unsteadiness the whisky from before was still granting him. And slowly, he turned and opened the door again.

This time he watched. They were still coming, one after another after another, passing through the streets with their lanterns, facing straight ahead, nothing but their legs and feet moving. The lanterns stayed steady even as they walked; it seemed that their eyes did not even blink.

And as they passed, Lucius looked from one to another and then repeated the process, wondering why, in their passing, they were taking no notice of _him.  
_  
Until he saw coming one that he recognized.

_Damnú air _, he muttered; a Gaelic swear. He nearly fell out of the doorway, and in catching himself nearly knocked straight into one of the shadows, but he pulled himself back for fear of coming in contact with the figure. He only made his way towards the face he knew, as that selfsame face made its way slowly towards him.

The only difference between them was, when Stangler stopped and tried to speak, the other just kept on walking around him.

As Lucius was being passed by, he somehow again found his voice.

he said quietly, and then went in pursuit of the young man, David Baker?

He nearly caught the boy's shoulder before David Baker recognized his name and turned.

he said, using the old nickname the miners had given Lucius Stangler long ago. He nodded in greeting, then turned and continued walking.

Wait- wait, wait! Stangler pursued the young man again, made him turn again, What's- what's goin' on?

Davy Baker looked confused.

I mean, Stangler stammered, as the multitudes of shadows and light continued to pass on all sides, What's... What's this all about?I don't understand, said Davy.

Lucius took a look around, rested his hands on his hips. He shook his head a bit and gestured vaguely with one hand before asking: Where you all going?The carnival, Davy answered plainly.

Stangler's eyebrows lowered sharply.

he asked, and laughed nervously. There's no carnival.

For the first time, Davy smiled.

There will be, he said, then turned and continued walking.

Lucius repeated, sneering. He tried letting this idea sink in a bit before another one rose to the surface. Wait, wait, Davy! he called out and ran a few more paces, and the boy once again turned to face him. Where's Scudder?

At this question, David's light brown eyes darkened.

Scudder's gone, he said.

Stangler asked. He sniffed thoughtfully. You mean... he's with... you fellows?

David shook his head solemnly- ominously.

Scudder left, he said, and turned and continued walking.

Scudder left, Lucius repeated as Davy walked away from him for the third time. Suddenly Lucius laughed: Well, where'd he go? The carnival?

But David Baker didn't answer. He had disappeared into the crowd of shadows.

And the shadows continued to march, and Lucius remained by himself in the street, as if in a dream.


	3. Part III

They never did anything.

In the night they came, and in the daylight they vanished.

But they never did anything.

They only walked, a solemn promenade marching through Babylon's streets. They only spoke when spoken to, they only stopped when commanded. Otherwise, the heartbeat droned on- step after step, endless from sunset to sunrise.

There were a few who would seem to move with some sort of purpose. These were the ones who had not been miners; the company store manager, the movie-house owner. They would go into their places of occupation, sit behind the counter and up in the projection booth, waiting, sitting silently. They were the only ones who ever stopped.

Indeed, it had not only been miners who'd died in the cave-in. Everyone in Babylon had known Carl Butridge. Everyone in Babylon had rallied for justice to be brought upon his murderer.

Everyone except Lucius.

Carl Butridge hadn't been much of a drinker.

For that reason Lucius had stayed at the back of the group when they set out to find Scudder. For that reason he'd been able to escape the cave-in.

And for that reason he was sitting in the bar, months later, drunk and alone.

For a good few days after that first night, he'd stayed in the bar, too afraid to watch the dead men walk the street. He'd nearly starved, but eventually sense got the better of him and he went to the store- during the day of course- and got himself enough food to last a while.

At night now, he still could not make himself leave the bar, and that meant there were only two things to do: drink or play the piano. And Stangler didn't know too many songs.

There was a knock on the door.

Lucius looked up, confused.

came an unfamiliar voice from beyond the door, Anyone in there? Hello?C'mon Bill, there ain't nobody here, came a different voice.

Well, this is just downright confounding, said the first.

Lucius got up off his seat, made his way to the door and cautiously removed the table he'd been using to hold the marchers out.

He opened the door.

A smart and smug looking man in a blue, worn suit stood across the threshold. He looked at Stangler disapprovingly and shucked his jacket, throwing glances to the people standing beside and behind him.

he said with a lopsided smile, You open?

Lucius, dazed, stepped aside, and let the man in. The man's followers poured in as well: a slew of people sporting all manner of physical disorders, a dozen or so rough-and-tumble looking guys, and even some people who appeared fairly proper and clean.

Stangler shot a glance out the door once the last of the rabble had entered.

The streets of Babylon were empty.

Whisky please, if you don't mind, said the suited man, taking a seat at one of the tables.

Lucius nodded slowly, and went to fetch glass and bottle.

Ain't a lot of folks walkin' the streets at this hour, said an extremely short woman sitting at the suited man's table as Lucius came to pour the drink, Not a sociable bunch, I guess?

Stangler cleared his throat.

he said, and began pouring, What, eh... what brings you folks to Babylon?Well, we're with the carnival, said the suited man.

Stangler's hand slipped; the whisky glass toppled over and he nearly dropped the bottle.

Careful there, son, the suited man admonished Lucius- luckily none had splashed onto him. Yup, we'll be here for a few days.

Lucius nodded, righting and repouring the glass.

I'll have some o' that, if you don't mind, said another customer.

Lucius nodded again, turning back toward the bar.

Within an hour the bar was more lively than it had ever been, even when the miners had been alive. One carnie had taken the piano, and people were dancing, shouting, having fun.

All Stangler could do was sit behind the bar, taking and filling orders, answering as few questions as he could manage.

After a while, he took notice of a figure standing outside the door.

It was James Harker. A miner.

Stangler approached him, and as he did he saw that a great deal of the miners were waiting outside as well- still as statues.

We'd like to come in, said James, which was something that surprised Lucius a great deal- James Harker had never been one to ask anyone's permission for anything.

But all the same, not knowing what to do, Stangler stepped aside.

he said.

And slowly, one by one, about ten of the men- if they could even be called that anymore- stepped into the bar.

After the last one had entered, Stangler turned back to the statues outside. Among them was Davy Baker.

Looks like you finally got that carnival you were waitin' for, said Lucius.

Davy's eyes were dark.

We'll see, he said.

Lucius closed the door.


	4. Part IV

That night was the night the rumors about the town of Babylon would begin.

There were dozens of stories, ways in which the truth had been twisted and warped. In one, it was a few unnamed rousties. In another, it was a bearded woman. And then there were the stories- a handfull of stories about a man named Freddie Nells or Freddie Neff or Freddie Niv, of every occupation and with all sorts of companions going down with him.

The stories were all the same in only two respects:

The victims were always killed for no apparent reason. And they were always hanged.

These ain't the ones, said James.

Stangler felt like he was going to jump right out of his skin. Ever since the miners had entered... Well, they'd begun mingling with the carnies, chatting, asking questions. Not in a friendly, conversational way, but in those same lowered voices and icy tones that they seemed to carry around with them ever since the cave-in.

It wasn't just their tones that were icy, either. In the light of the room their faces were pale and drawn even after the consumption of alcohol... And when Lucius took the empty glasses back from their hands, he found the glasses chilled.

James Harker had been standing near Lucius of some time now. Lucius could feel the cold radiating off of him.

That so? he asked, daring to meet the eyes of the miner.

James only nodded.

Lucius picked up a glass; began cleaning it absent-mindedly. Thas' too bad, he said.

Suddenly from a corner near the back, there arose a ruckus. There were scuffling noises, and a woman cried out. James' head turned quickly, like a snake's, toward the source of the noise. Lucius took more time to look, and by the time he'd turned his head he saw a swarm of miners and carnies, shouting, struggling, scuffling and grappling with each other.

Looks like the boys are restless, James drawled.

Lucius set down the glass; threw the cloth on the bartop. He headed around to meet the crowd.

he shouted, trying to get their attention. He latched onto a struggling match between a miner and a roustie and pulled them apart, But he stopped and stared at the miner who glared at him, as the roustie, thankfully not trying to bowl Lucius down, simply growled and grumbled. The miner's clothes were frigid- Lucius' forearm was pressed to the shirt over his chest, and the barkeep felt as if his skin was about to freeze right off.

he finished, pushing the miner away, still staring him down, Break it up.

The miner did nothing.

Break it up! Lucius exclaimed, and hastened to the fray. Luckily, there weren't that many of them, and the miners let go easily enough when Lucius pushed them away. Somewhere in the crowd, a woman was still screaming.

And then Lucius found her.

A hush fell through the room and the last of the fighting died down as the sobs of this poor girl pierced through the crowd. She was on her knees, her face red with fresh tears, holding the torn sleeves of her dress up to her shoulders. She turned her face up to look at Lucius, and he saw that a scraggly beard graced her chin. She was a freak.

What happened here? Lucius asked, grateful that he felt somewhat in charge of the situation.

A roustie was the first to speak up, I saw that sonofabitch touchin' Sally, he said, pointing an accusing finger at one of the miners. Other carnies grumbled their agreement. The miners said nothing.

You all right? Lucius asked the girl. Didn' hurt you or nothin', did they?

The bearded girl shook her head.

Lucius nodded. All right, he said. He turned to the miner nearest him and again felt that irradiating coldness.

I think... he said, and his bravado faltered a bit under the miner's gaze; he choked on his words but then went on: I think you boys better leave.Ain't leavin', said the miner, Them's outsiders. S'our place.

Lucius took a deep breath, his courage sinking. Was that his own breath he saw suspended in the air? He wasn't sure...

All the miners turned. James had emerged from behind the bar.

You heard the man.

Without another word, the miners all turned to leave.

As soon as the miners began filtering out, Lucius felt as if he could breathe again. He nodded to the carnies around him, signaling that everything would be all right, and headed back towards his post behind the bar.

These ain't the ones, Lucy, James said as Lucius passed him.

Lucius answered vaguely.

Though you oughta know... James muttered, and Lucius stopped and turned to listen: ...somebody gotta die for him.

And he turned on his heel, and walked out with the rest of them.


	5. Part V

Coming to Babylon had always seemed like something of a mistake.

Not that the slums of Dallas had been much better. Lucius Stangler had been born there. Born poor and Catholic, raised poor and Catholic- raised in fear of persecution by the police, the government, the Klan.

He'd been in his early 20s when he'd seen the ad: Employees needed for a silver-mining company setting up somewhere in the vast Texan desert.

Times were hard even then, and Lucius was sick of the city. So he signed on to run a little lunch place, somewhere the miners could stop off in the middle of the day for a bite.

Few of the miners in Babylon were married and those that were had to be fiercely loyal, because Babylon was fifty miles away from everywhere, and it was awful easy to forget one's spouse when you hadn't had a toss in months and a carnival drops by with its cooch dancers and whores.

Another side effect of Babylon's remote location was the lawlessness. Sure, the foreman kept order enough in the mines themselves, but in time the laws of the country- Prohibition, for example- began to fade away and then disappear. Lucius' little lunch place was slowly but surely transformed into a tavern. Meanwhile, Stangler just kept sending as much money as he could afford back to Dallas.

Somehow, though, it had always seemed like something of a mistake.

It wasn't only that Lucius missed his family, or the relative scores of women that wandered the streets of the big city. It wasn't that he felt lonely or without friends. It wasn't that he wasn't making enough money.

There was always something unstable about Babylon. And after a while Lucius began feeling that someday, something had to break. Something would go terribly wrong.

It had only been a whispering fear. He'd been making fair money, and had friends enough for conversation. But he was always on his guard.

Then, in the last leg of hiring for the mine workers, Henry Scudder showed up...

---

Come one! Come all! Only twenty-five cent! The talker, in his red and blue vertical striped jacket, waved his cane and tipped his hat to the ghostly miners filing past. Freddie the Fantastic! He calls upon the ancient powers of old to read your future! Step right up, gentlemen!

From somewhere else, another talker was competing: Come see the girl born with a beard! Sally Drake! Just one nickel!

Stangler was meandering along the midway, hands in pockets, his eyes skirting around the crowd nervously. The miners, for now, were being as zombie-like as ever. But that sentence was still ringing in his head:

_Someone gotta die for him.  
_  
Was _that_ why they'd been waiting for a carnival for so long? To kill Scudder? It didn't make any sense!

The presence of the carnival itself, however, was a reassurance for Stangler in that he realized now he couldn't have been crazy all this time. The miners weren't a dream or some drunken hallucination- someone else was seeing them now.

A sudden thought made him stop in his tracks, right outside of Freddie the Fantastic's tent.

All the miners were here. There wasn't- so to speak- a soul left in town. And a thought entered his head that he hadn't dared to think in months.

Perhaps this was his chance.

---

Freddie Nevin, aka Freddie the Fantastic, gazed into the crystal ball, making a big show of it as he always did. He hummed a low, grumbling hum, one that he'd always thought sounded rather mystical. He waved his hands, wheeling them in slow circles around the orb that sat before him.

It was around this time that whoever was sitting across from him would gaze intently into the ball as well, looking for whatever Freddie might see. Freddie noted, however, that the tired-looking man in overalls only was gazing straight ahead, straight at Freddie's face.

Odd. And a little unnerving. But Freddie didn't let it show.

Ah, sir, he said, in his most ethereal voice, I can see bright things within your future.

The miner only drawled a single word: 

Freddie was not enjoying this man's unwillingness to play along. Obviously a non-believer.

Oh, yes, he said, A large sum of money coming your way... Have you any well-off relatives, sir?I got a cousin in Dallas, the miner said.

Freddie said, feeling lucky to have hit a vein, That must be it, then... Well, sir, I daresay you're going to see plenty more of these in the future. He held up the quarter that the miner had relinquished to him. Good evening, sir, he said with a nod, and as the miner started to rise, Freddie offered his closing line: And may the gods be with you.

The miner cast him a sneering glance before heading out.

Freddie sighed, twiddling the quarter over his fingers. He didn't blame those who didn't believe in his act, he only wondered why they bothered to stop in at all, especially when quarters were so hard to come by these days.

And may the gods be with you.' Not for the first time, Freddie chuckled at his own private joke, a play on his pagan beliefs. If only those suckers could see some _real_ magic...

---

Stangler cast a triumphant glance over his shoulder, towards the bright lights of the carnival. They weren't expecting a thing, these miners. He could make it this time, he could really make it- maybe.

He was trying not to get his hopes too high.

But he knew he had enough supplies to make it to the next town, as long as he traveled quickly. Ten miles a day, at least. And he'd have to sleep out in the freezing desert night, and ration his water, and watch out for snakes.

It didn't matter, though. None of it mattered as long as he could get out.

He was nearing the top of the hill.

Stangler did his best to ignore the sudden, inexplicable weight that kept bearing down on his shoulders, growing heavier with each step. This had happened before, but he could overcome it, somehow. He had to.

He stepped onto the top of the hill.

Beyond what the carnival's playful light could reach, the stars above glimmered, sprinkled across the sky. The Milky Way, shining like the road to Heaven, lay in wait, ready for Lucius to follow its path.

Lucius took one more step, and found, to his utter dismay, that he could not move.

He thought for a moment he'd been frozen in place somehow- but he realized after a moment that this wasn't true. It was only- he tried stepping again- something was blocking his path. Something he couldn't see.

He took one step to the right, tried again. Nothing. Another step to the right. Nothing.

Who's there? he called out suddenly. Someone had to be doing this to him. A little louder: Who's there?

No answer.

Stangler's nostrils flared; his breath turned to mist in the chill Texas night. Whoever this was, for whatever reason they were doing it, they weren't going to stop him this time. He was going to get out, or die trying.

He took a few steps back, then ran, slamming into the invisible barrier, pressing on it with all his weight. It didn't give an inch.

He tried again, taking more steps back and running with as much speed as he could muster.

But this time he stopped even before he reached the top of the hill. Startled, he cried out in alarm, stumbled back, almost fell.

It was hard to say exactly what he was looking at. A shadowy figure had perched itself atop the hill. It might have been called a person, except that it kept shifting, kept transforming somehow. The only true clue to its form, to its nature, was the burning end of a cigarette clutched in its right hand.

Did you think it was only the miners keeping you in? asked a dry, gravely voice. The embers on the tip of the cigarette flared as the shadow took a drag.

Stangler stayed silent. He found he couldn't get up the courage to speak. It was almost as if he were standing before God.

Or, perhaps, the devil.

But after the several moments of silence that soon passed, Stangler felt that one of them had to say something.

You've been doin' this? he asked, squinting, trying to get a clear view of the figure, which was of course impossible.

I have no reason to reveal my motives to you, the voice declared smugly, tapping the cigarette, disposing of the ash, I will only tell you that I need someone alive in Babylon.So get somebody else, Lucius pleaded, One of the carnies. Anybody. Just let me out. He hoped this was a benevolent god he was talking to.

said the voice, though Lucius took a small comfort in the voice's tone, which sounded as if it had really considered his suggestion. No carnie here will do. They will serve their destined purpose; the sacrifice in place of that which gives the dead unrest, and no more. Lucius exclaimed, ALL of em are gonna die?!I will answer no more questions, the voice stated, But I cannot let you leave.

Lucius wondered if gods could bleed. He decided to find out. Angrily, he strode right up to the shadowy figure and punched it across the face, finding it to be surprisingly solid. It hurt his hand, and he tried not to show it.

As for the shadow itself, it reacted to the hit as a human would- its head sprang back and its body reeled momentarily. Lucius took this moment of weak defense to make another break for it.

But at the top of the hill, he found himself once again halted.

The shadow, apparently stunned only a moment ago by Lucius' attack, now stood calm and collected in front of him.

That was unwise, it said, bringing the cigarette to its mouth.

Stangler was stunned, though not particularly surprised, by the fact that even at this close proximity he could not see the figure's face.

he said, I don't give a rat's arse about what you need. I'm getting out of here. You've got to let me out.I'm getting quite tired of your persistence, the shadow complained, and then its voice lowered, and became threatening. Sinister. You know nothing of the forces which bind your fate, Lucius Stangler. You are a simpleton of weak mind and even weaker spirit. But none of that matters because, whether you like it or not, you're going to help me find Henry Scudder. Lucius asked, his eyes crinkling. There was a long moment of heavy silence, in which the shadow's breath, full of smoke, flowed and swirled up towards the stars.

Who are you? Lucius finally asked the shadow.

The shadow told him.


	6. Part VI

PAGAN.

That was the word carved on Freddie the Fantastic's forehead when two rousties found him swinging from a tree outside of the carnival's grounds.

The last anyone had seen of him, it was closing time. He was locking up his trailer, and according to one witness he had gone out into the darkness to relieve himself. After he didn't return for an hour, people started to wonder.

Roll was taken; Freddie was the only one missing. And then the two rousties who had gone looking for him returned with the news.

People wondered whether there was some special reason the miners had targeted Nevin- the theory they all agreed on in the end was that the miners had killed Freddie for going against the First Commandment.

The simple truth behind the matter- something that the carnies would never know- is that Freddie Nevin's crime was not having sinned. Every man, no matter how hard he tries to deny it, has sinned. And most sins are worse than anything Freddie Nevin had ever done.

His crime was simply being the first one caught alone.

---

When Lucius woke up, he had no recollection of how long he'd been out, or what had happened in that time.

For what had seemed like ages he'd lived in a nightmare world. Images strange and terrifying had flashed inside his mind, in front of his very eyes.

His punishment for asking so many questions.

In his mind- possibly even in reality- he'd wandered through the mines, crawling in the darkness. No food, no water, no refuge, no respite.

Worst of all, he'd heard things- the voices of the dead. Of the miners. Heartless, cold voices that taunted him and laughed from the darkness. Hearing them, Lucius had realized just what shadows of their former selves they had become.

And they hated him for being the only one left alive.

When he woke up, he felt less like a man, less like a real human being, then he'd ever felt. His face was wet with what he guessed were tears, although he wasn't crying. He was only still, and empty.

He was sitting at the entrance to the mines, where the rocks had sealed off the tunnel. He turned his head towards the West, and saw that the sun was setting.

Strangler didn't bat an eye. He didn't even blink.

He only rose to his feet, and headed off to take his place at the bar.

That night, looking out the window, he saw someone new in the crowd- a man in dark pants and a tuxedo shirt, walking with the same glassy eyes and pale stare as the rest of them.

The Sacrifice.

The town was quiet again- the carnival was long gone, however long that had been.

Weeks passed. Months. Again and again silence was exchanged for the rhythmic steps of the dead. And slowly, Stangler discovered he no longer desired food nor sleep. Many nights he found himself staring at a half-empty bottle of whiskey, his index finger circling the rim of a well-used shot glass over and over and over again- one rotation for every step from outside.

At times he thought he was dead, just like the rest of them. But then he would step out-of-doors while the sun was shining.

Every once in a while he would cast a cold eye towards the horizon, to the hill in the distance that marked the end of Babylon. The place where he'd fallen on the first night. The place where he'd met with that shadowy demon.

Looking at that hill was the only thing that made him feel human again.

It would be wrong to say that the time passed quickly, but the monotony of the situation made everything blur together. In the end Strangler couldn't have said how many years he'd spent staring that those bottles of whiskey. Oddly enough, he never seemed to run out.

Then, one night, the rhythm seemed to stop.

Stangler's finger stopped in the midst of tracing the empty glass's rim, almost at the exact same moment the footsteps ceased. He looked up, towards the door.

Staggering, he approached the door and opened it.

The miners had not vanished, but they had indeed stopped. They were standing in a perfect formation, spaced out exactly in straight lines. They were all staring towards the hill.

Stangler wondered whether the ghosts had taken up his habit. He limped drunkenly through the ranks, looking around, waiting for the explanation.

Then one of the miners spoke.

They're coming.

Stangler didn't even look to see who had spoken. He only turned his head, looking out towards the hill again.

The miners didn't move until sunrise. And that was when Stangler decided he'd give their new visitors a proper welcome.

In a trance, he packed up his supplies just as he had on that first day, knowing he wouldn't need them. Then, sometime in the late morning, he set out, traveling towards the hill.

As he approached the hill he saw the trucks come over it, and he kept walking as though he thought he was going to leave.

Soon the first of the trucks pulled up level with Lucius and stopped; a diminutive man spoke from the side window.

Hey fella... This the road to Babylon? he asked.

Yeah, just ahead, Stangler said, gesturing down the road, Over yonder.You from there?Yeah, I'm from there, all right. Stangler smiled ironically, then nodded towards the hill. I'm headin' out.Ain't nothin' back there but fifty miles of sand and sidewinders, said the man at the wheel.

Lucius looked for a moment at the side of the truck, which was fancifully painted. You the carnival?That we are, the small man answered.

We been waitin' for you folks a long time.Oh yeah? How's that?

But Lucius just heard himself chuckle softly as he turned to continue up the hill.

The caravan started to move again, and an old dusty car swept past Lucius.

Hey, handsome, said a female voice from inside the vehicle. Lucius turned, and saw a feminine eye wink at him from the window. She was pretty, whoever she was. But he didn't smile at her.

His mind was, at the moment, on one thing and one thing only- Scudder. He was there, somewhere, in that caravan. And once the miners had exacted their revenge upon him, Stangler knew he would be free.


End file.
